


Ticket To Ride

by situation_normal



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Embarrassment, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, Living Together, Miscommunication, Non-Linear Narrative, One Shot, Roommates, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 23:23:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17796725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/situation_normal/pseuds/situation_normal
Summary: Rey wasn’t looking at him. She was standing in the doorway of his office, pointedly looking anywhere but his face. She seemed to notice she was wringing her hands and dropped her arms limply to her sides. “I’m moving away. I’m going back to England. Today. Well, tonight.”Read: THEY WERE ROOMMATES





	Ticket To Ride

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kate_Reid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kate_Reid/gifts).



> Thank you so much, as always, to my long suffering friend and mentor, Kate_Reid, for betaing this fic for me. It's a gift for you, Kate, so I'm glad you got to see it first!
> 
> Title from the song of the same name by The Beatles. The song is also quoted at the beginning of the fic.

_She said that living with me_

_Is bringing her down yeah_

_For she would never be free_

_When I was around_

  
_She's got a ticket to ride_

_She's got a ticket to ride_

_She's got a ticket to ride_

_But she don't care_

* * *

  
February 2019

  
Looking down at the printed boarding pass in his hands, Ben Solo shook his head and sighed. He crumpled the A4 sheet of paper in one hand and dropped it in the wastepaper basket by his desk. He couldn’t do it.  
   
His torment would end someday, but that day would not be today.  
   
He heard the front door slam, and Rey calling his name. Who was he kidding? As long as she was here, he was never going to willingly give up this life, torturous as it was. He’d rather eat one of Rey’s ‘famous’ baked bean and ketchup omelettes. He’d rather eat ten of them.  
   
If he could somehow summon up the courage to tell her how he felt about her—if by some otherworldly miracle there was any chance that she felt the same way about him—he would gladly eat nothing but Rey’s godawful cooking for the rest of his damn life.  
   
“Ben, are you home?”

  
   
August 2017

  
“ _Please, Ben. I’ve never asked you for a favour before.”_  
   
Ben held a hand over the receiver and growled in annoyance, took five deep breaths, and removed his hand, clearing his throat before replying to the goddamn nuisance on the other end of the line. “I said no, Uncle Luke. I’m not having some stranger living in my fucking apartment.”  
   
“ _It’s not a stranger, it’s one of my students. You live in that huge place—”_  
   
“It’s not huge.”  
   
“— _right by the university. She really could do with your help. She can pay rent; she works three jobs! She’s my star student, Ben. I need this._ She _needs this. Student accommodation is completely oversubscribed this year.”_  
   
The doorbell rang and Ben got up to answer it. Probably his pizza. “The day one of your sycophantic, asshole, buttlicker students moves into my home, is the day I voluntarily throw myself off the face of the Earth, okay?” He buzzed the pizza guy in and cracked the door open, heading back to his office for his wallet. “It will never happen.”  
   
“ _I’m sorry to hear you say that.”_  
   
“Well, that makes one of us.”  
   
“ _No, Ben, I’m sorry to hear that you’ll be leaving the planet, because your mom owns that apartment, and she said it’s fine. I hope you and your new roommate get along; she should be arriving within the next hour, please just—”_ Luke sighed resignedly. “— _just make her feel welcome, okay? She doesn’t have anyone to rely on.”_  
   
The line went dead and Ben hurled his phone at the wall behind him. “Fucking asshole!”  
   
He turned around at the sound of a startled gasp, and there was a girl inside his apartment. Right by the front door. Right next to his shattered phone.  
   
She was staring at him like he was some sort of monster.

  
   
February 2019

  
“Say that again. I need to hear you say it one more time.”  
   
Rey wasn’t looking at him. She was standing in the doorway of his office, pointedly looking anywhere but his face. She seemed to notice she was wringing her hands and dropped her arms limply to her sides. “I’m moving away. I’m going back to England. Today. Well, tonight.”  
   
Ben’s throat was burning. His eyes were burning like he was about to cry. He wasn’t going to fucking cry about this. He was not going to cry about this girl who hated him—this girl who made his life a misery—finally leaving him to enjoy the solitude of his own apartment.  
   
She took a deep breath before continuing. “I suppose you won’t have to put up with me anymore, so that’s... good. I wondered if you could give me a lift to the airport? It’s okay if you can’t; I’ll just get the bus.”

  
  
August 2017

  
“You’re sure?”  
   
Ben shrugged. “Makes no difference to me.” Lies. For some reason it did, in fact, make a difference to him whether or not this random human decided that he was inoffensive enough to share living space with. Ben had never been one for leaving a good first impression, but this had to be some sort of new low.  
   
And the worst part was that he liked her. The girl. The first impressions thing had never been an issue before, because another thing that Ben Solo never made a habit of was liking people.  
   
“You can have the bedroom down the hall on the right. We'll have to share a bathroom, but there’s a lock on the door. We can make a schedule for chores. Stay out of my study; when I’m in there, I’m working, so don’t bother me.”  
   
She was still looking at him distrustfully, which was fair, taking into consideration that from her perspective, he had just thrown a phone at her and called her an asshole.  
   
Best to give her some space.  
   
“I’ll be in my study. You just—” He indicated the direction of her room with a vague wave of his hands. “—make yourself at home. Pizza guy will be here some time soon. There’s cash on the kitchen table. You have it, I’ve... lost my appetite.”  
   
He turned and started walking in the direction of his office, essentially giving her the run of the apartment to get her bearings without his unwanted presence.  
   
“Don’t you—” He stopped at the sound of her voice. It was uncertain. Nervous. He was such a fucking idiot for making her nervous in her own home. “—Don't you want to know my name?”  
   
Then he turned back to look at her, and she was chewing her lip anxiously, fiddling with the handle of her duffle bag. She looked lost. Bereft. Deeply uncomfortable with this whole situation. With him.  
   
Inoffensive. Go for inoffensive. _Yes_. _Please_ _tell_ _me_ _your_ _name_. _And_ _please don’t feel uncomfortable here. You could live here for the rest of your life and I would be content with that._ No, too clingy. Apparently Ben was a clinger when he had a crush on someone. Better rein that in.  
   
_I’ll never push my presence on you. I’ll never push anything on you._ Too intense. Just. Act. Cool.  
   
Nonchalant. That was the direction. He shrugged. If in doubt, shrugging is always good. Totally fucking nonchalant. “I guess that would be a good idea... for practical reasons.”  
   
“It’s Rey.”

  
   
February 2019

  
Ben set his glasses down on the desk and pressed his thumbs into his eyes. This was not happening.  
   
“Rey, don’t you think we should’ve talked about this?” He was a hypocrite. That boarding pass in the wastepaper basket wasn’t the first one he’d bought over the past two years. It wasn’t even the fourth.  
   
“Why? I mean... I’m sorry for not giving you more notice; it was kind of a spur of the moment thing. I thought about telling you last week when I booked the ticket, but it never seemed to be the right time... it’s not like we regularly strike up conversations together.”  
   
Valid point.

  
   
December 2017

  
Ben swallowed another disgusting mouthful and attempted an approving smile.  
   
She had insisted. She had been so determined to make Christmas dinner that he couldn’t bring himself to refuse. The meat was overdone—chewy to the point of being inedible.  
   
The roast potatoes were hard in the middle. The gravy was congealed. The carrots were mush. The cabbage was...  
   
“Delicious,” he told her. “Really. The best Christmas dinner I’ve ever had.”  
   
It wasn’t necessarily a lie. His family was Jewish, and they didn't celebrate Christmas. Rey didn’t need to know that.  
   
“I know!” She shovelled another forkful of mushy carrot, hard potato, and congealed gravy into her mouth. “Thanks for buying the ingredients.”  
   
Even speaking through a mouthful of food, she was still adorable. Ben grimaced at the idea that this truly was the best Christmas dinner she’d ever eaten.  
   
He masked a retch on the next forkful with a cough. He swore to himself that he’d teach her to cook properly next year. For both their sakes.

  
   
February 2019

  
“Didn’t you even care how I might feel about this?” A pointless question. Because why would she?  
   
Silence. A painful, drawn out, palpable silence in which neither of them could meet the other’s eyes.  
   
“I didn’t think you would _feel_ anything about it, except maybe... relief.”  
   
Relief? “Rey, how could you think that?”

  
   
February 2018

  
Ben could hear heated voices from the other side of the front door. Rey’s. Some stranger's. Some _guy_.  
   
He should’ve expected it. He really should. Rey was young. Single. Attractive. Why wouldn't she date?  
   
The lock clicked and the door opened, and suddenly he could hear their words.  
   
“Come on, Rey. It’s Valentine’s Day! You know how much I like you; you said ‘maybe’ when I asked you about tonight, and everyone knows you’re not dating anyone. It'll be fun!”  
   
“Well, I’m saying ‘no’ right now, Poe. I’ve told you before, I’m just—”  
   
It had taken approximately 0.5 seconds for Ben make his way to the front door, loom as menacingly as he possibly could over the obnoxious dudebro, and ask, “Is this guy bothering you, Rey?”  
   
‘Poe’ backed up four paces immediately and held his hands up in front of him. “Dude, I was just talking to my friend. No need to be like that.”  
   
Rey sent Ben an almost imperceptible look of gratitude before shaking her head. “No, honestly, it’s fine. He’s just my friend.” She turned back to face Poe. “But that’s all it’s ever going to be, okay, Poe? Thanks for walking me back.”  
   
Ben shut the door in his face, maybe a little too hard.  
   
“Thank you,” Rey said, quietly.  
   
Ben took a deep breath and he could smell her shampoo. They were close. Standing way too close together in the doorway. She'd just had to deflect the unwanted advances of some guy who was meant to be her friend, and Ben was crowding her personal space. Thinking about how great she smelled.  
   
He took a step back. “Any time.”  
   
He meant it. Any time. Anything. _For you_.

  
   
February 2019

  
“Don’t do that to me, Ben. Not now, it’s not fair.”  
   
“Don’t do what?”  
   
“That thing you always do. You spend every day acting like I’m some sort of parasitic bug you can’t get out of your fucking apartment, and then just suddenly—randomly—you look at me like that. And you say things like that. And I can’t do it anymore.”

  
   
May 2018

  
Rey was in the shower. Singing. It was distracting in the extreme. Ben would never get used to this.  
   
He slammed his laptop closed and ground his teeth. Work could wait; he needed a drink. He flicked on some music on his way to the kitchen to drown out the sound of her voice and the running water.  
   
This was ridiculous. He needed to get over it, this crush. This _heartsickness_. It was distracting him from work—Snoke had noticed and chastised him for his recent flippancy.  
   
He looked at the clock on the oven. It was evening, after office hours. He poured himself a whiskey and drank it too fast, slamming the glass back down on the counter when he was done.  
   
Maybe he could just move away. He already worked from home; it wouldn’t matter to Snoke if he was working from his home office here or in Timbuktu. Rey could use the apartment until she finished her degree.  
   
No. That was crazy. He could get over this thing. He was a grown man, for God’s sake.  
   
A brief scream and a loud crash rang out from the bathroom, loud enough that it was clearly audible even over his music. Ben didn’t stop to think before he dashed through to the bathroom and flung the door open.  
   
Bad idea. Terrible. Really, truly awful.  
   
Rey screamed again from where she was lying in a naked, crumpled heap on the floor, and Ben slammed the door closed. Why hadn’t she locked the door?!  
   
And now he had the image of her wet, naked body burned into the back of his eyelids like he’d looked at the sun. No matter how many times he blinked, it wouldn’t go away.  
   
“Jesus Christ, Rey! Don’t you have a towel or something you could put on? Do you need help?”  
   
The door opened again and she was stood there wrapped in a pink towel, her face luminous with embarrassment. “I’m fine. Sorry. Thanks for checking on me.”  
   
Ben grimaced with the effort it took to keep his eyes somewhere above her head. “Whatever. Just don’t forget to lock the door.”  
   
“Okay.”  
   
That night, Ben booked a one way flight to London. He never took it.

  
   
February 2019

  
He was on his feet now. Incredulous.  
   
“What are you talking about? When have I ever treated you like I didn’t want you here?” Ben said, confused. He’d gone above and beyond to make sure he never made her feel uncomfortable.  
   
“Almost every day since the day I moved in. You can hardly bear to be in the same room as me.”  
   
“That’s not true.” All he wanted was to be in the same room as her. Preferably a bedroom. In the same bed.  
   
“And then when, for whatever reason, we actually do end up in the same room... talking or—I dunno—anything, you either act like me being there is physically burning you, or, like now, you’re sweet. And you look at me like I’m important to you.”  
   
“You _are_ important to me.”  
   
“Then, why—”  
   
“I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable around me.”  
   
Her eyes travelled up and down his face a few times, and she took a step towards him. “Maybe I wouldn’t mind being a bit less comfortable.”

  
   
September 2018

  
There were panties—plain black, should-be-innocuous-but-aren't, _panties_ —attached to the front of his jeans. Clean, thank god; Ben wasn’t sure he’d be able to resist the extremely unhealthy and unsettling inclination to sniff them otherwise.  
   
They were stuck on with static. Fucking god knows how they’d made their way into his pile of clean, folded laundry.  
   
“Rey!”  
   
He heard her footsteps padding softly across the carpet space between their bedrooms, and she knocked lightly on his door.  
   
“Come in here; some of your laundry got mixed up with mine.”  
   
Ben hadn’t thought this through—a bad decision he’d found himself making more and more. He was shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of sweats. And Rey was in his bedroom.  
   
He turned away from her when he saw her eyes widen in shock before she trained them on the floor. He had an erection, he realised. Fuck everything. Hopefully, she hadn’t noticed.  
   
He pointed at the jeans/panties combo on his bed without looking back at her, but he could almost feel the heat radiating from her blushing face as she rushed forwards and grabbed the offending garment.  
   
“I’m _so_ sorry, you said it was okay to send a bag of my stuff with yours if I got behind on my washing, they must’ve gotten muddled!” Her voice was strained. Mortified. “It won’t happen again; I’ll go back to using the laundrette.”  
   
He tried to say something, but all that came out of his mouth was some sort of choked grunt.  
   
She left in a hurry, shutting the door quietly behind her.  
   
Ben waited until he heard her bedroom door close before he jerked off.

  
   
February 2019

  
Ben didn’t even attempt to guess what fraction of a second it took for him to process her words. He was too busy getting into her personal space.  
   
Rey’s hands were in his hair before he’d even shoved her fully against the wall. He groaned into her mouth where their lips were locked together; she tugged the sensitive hair at the nape of his neck.  
   
She hopped off the floor and wrapped her legs around his waist, and fuck. She wanted him. He was kissing her, and she was kissing him back like she'd been holding herself back for as long as he had.  
   
He could feel himself getting hard, and she ground herself against the growing bulge in his pants. Eighteen months worth of pent up sexual frustration was pouring out of him all at once. He gripped her ass with both hands and pressed her against him.  
   
He pulled away from her lips to catch a breath. “I’ve wanted you for so long. Fuck.”  
   
“Me, too,” she said, breathlessly.  
   
“Take off your pants.” He was done with holding back.  
   
He dropped her and she instantly went to unbuckle her jeans. He couldn’t take his eyes off her as she shifted them down her perfect legs and into a pile on the floor.  
   
“Your shirt, too.” He palmed his fully-hard member through his jeans as he watched her rid herself of her faded Rolling Stones tee-shirt and ratty off white bra. “Fuck.”  
   
She looked at him expectantly.  He noticed her nipples pebbling in the cool air of the room and dropped down to his knees to kiss them. Caress them. Take them into his mouth one at a time and lave his tongue over them.  
   
For the first time, he took a deep breath of the sweet scent of her skin without reservations as she pulled him closer. His hands roved over every previously out-of-bounds inch of her body.  
   
It felt too soon when she pushed him away. He wasn’t done, but he blinked up at her through his lust-blurred eyes, awaiting her instruction. As much as he was loath to take his hands off her—to take his mouth off her—he was used to keeping his distance.  
   
She encouraged him to his feet with a gentle tug on the collar of his shirt, and he obliged her. She pulled him into another scorching kiss and went to unbuckle his belt, blindly.  
   
After a little too much time spent fumbling awkwardly, Ben stepped back and removed the infuriating belt with ease, yanking his jeans down urgently in the next motion.  
   
She was in his arms again in a moment, pinned against the wall, and he was sinking into her hot, wet, blissful pussy while she moaned into his ear.

  
   
December 2018

  
Rey was crying alone in her bedroom. Ben stood, helpless, on the other side of her door and listened to her, forehead pressed against the dark wood.  
   
He thought about knocking. He thought about straight up opening the door and holding her so she knew she wasn’t alone. But he didn’t.  
   
Instead, he pulled the folded dark blue handkerchief out of his trouser pocket, and left it on the floor outside her door.  
   
When he passed her bedroom again later, the door was still shut. He could still hear her stifled sobs, but his handkerchief was gone. In its place was a Christmas card with a picture of a robin on the front, and a short message in her messy handwriting scrawled on the inside:  
   
_Thank you._  
 

  
February 2019

  
“I’m never going to get the money back for that ticket; airlines are a nightmare for that,” Rey grumbled, curling into his arms where they were still slumped together on the floor.  
   
Ben reached over and grabbed the wastepaper basket by his desk, pulling out the crumpled piece of paper on the top and flattening it with his hands. “Tonight, you said? England? Are you flying into Heathrow?”  
   
She creased her brow in confusion. “Not anymore. Not unless... you want me to go?”  
   
Ben grinned, turning the paper over so she could see his boarding pass. “Maybe we could take a vacation together?”  
   
   
 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed the fic!
> 
> I have planned one more Beatles inspired fic, and it's almost completely written, I will post it maybe next week. I don't have plans for any more, but I listen to the Beatles a lot, so they might pop up every now and again!


End file.
